She was the successor Empress to Emperor Taejong of the Yeon dynasty. She was the mother of Emperor Deokjong. Born the only daughter of Emperor Seonjong and Deposed Empress Wi, she was initially invested as an imperial princess. However, following the Taejong Coup in the year of Jeongchuk, it was revealed that she was the illegitimate daughter of the deposed empress. This resulted in the confiscation of her status and property.

Immediately after Taejong ascended the throne, she was stripped of her noble rank and reduced to the status of a commoner. Yet within the same year, she received a letter of investiture as a Royal Concubine and entered Taejong’s rear palace. The year she gave birth to Deokjong, she was promoted to the rank of High Consort. Favored and trusted by Taejong, she became pregnant once more—but Taejong passed away in that same year.

Overcome with madness following his death, she took her own life at the age of 25. The following year, in accordance with the late emperor’s wishes, she was posthumously invested as empress. She had given birth to Prince Ak and Princess Hwa-yu. Upon Deokjong’s ascension to the throne, she was honored as Empress Dowager Hwa-so. However, she died that summer and was buried alongside Taejong. Her tomb is named Hyeon-reung, and her formal posthumous title is Empress Yeon-ri Gyeong-heon Su-in Deok-hye Yeong-in Seo-ha Jae-mun.

Side Story: To the One I Shall Love Again

Semo let out a long meow. Instead of getting up, she pulled the duvet over her head. Semo meowed again. She was certain she had filled the bowl with dry food the night before, yet Semo kept crying incessantly for more. For the past few days, her father had been grilling beef for Semo, and it seemed the cat had begun rejecting regular dry food altogether.

Meow—

“You had beef yesterday.”

Lee-jae grumbled at Semo as the cat approached and started nipping at the ends of her hair. When that still failed to draw a reaction, Semo began patting the duvet and meowing insistently for Lee-jae. With a tired sigh, Lee-jae wriggled out from under the covers, rubbed her eyes, and finally sat up to scoop the cat into her arms.

Semo was a brown-furred Korean shorthair. A few white patches were scattered here and there, but the brown tabby markings were so broad that the white was barely noticeable.

Running her fingers through Semo’s fur, Lee-jae got up and headed to the living room. Her mother had already left—apparently for a social club meeting, even though it was a weekday.

Lee-jae reheated some kimchi stew and served it with a bowl of rice. She opened the fridge, took out four eggs, and whisked them with a pinch of salt before rolling them into an omelette while finishing setting the table.

Semo wouldn’t stop crying, so Lee-jae tossed the cat a few treats. Just as she sat down to eat, her phone buzzed.

It was Hyo-jeong.

<Did you see this? Kwak-yang. So cool lol>

Hyo-jeong posted a photo of a Chinese actor who was trending on social media in the chat. A few months ago, she had been very excited about her favorite actor filming a new drama, and it seemed that some of the highly anticipated scenes had finally been released.

Lee-jae gave a half-hearted reply and picked up her spoon. Hyo-jeong had been her friend since primary school. She loved Chinese actors, in whom Lee-jae had zero interest, and was incredibly well-versed in Chinese dramas.

Recently, she had become particularly obsessed with an actor named Kwak Yang, spending all her time scouring Chinese sites like Weibo for information about him. For Lee-jae, it was all just ‘meh’. She didn’t even care for Korean actors, so there was no way she’d care about Chinese ones. Nevertheless, she had recently watched quite a few Chinese period dramas set in the Qing dynasty. While the pigtail hairstyles took some getting used to, watching them at Hyo-jeong’s relentless insistence had given her an appreciation of the historical costumes.

It seemed that she would have to watch this new drama too, giving in to Hyo-jeong’s ‘suggestions’, which were really more like commands. After eating a few more spoonfuls, she finished her meal and clicked on the link Hyo-jeong had posted in the chat. The drama was called The Queen of Broken Hearts.

The Queen of Bound Hearts… This subject has been adapted for drama and film several times in China. While the story may be unfamiliar to Koreans, Queen In-hyeon, also known as the Queen of Bound Hearts, was a figure who frequently inspired poets of the era. Lee-jae had seen her name in textbooks when studying Chinese characters. Furthermore, her story is one of the most beloved in Chinese history — it is so popular that it even has its own Peking Opera, much like the story of Xiang Yu and Consort Yu.

Lee-jae clicked on the link and saw an image of a man and a woman wearing traditional Chinese clothing. In keeping with the legendary beauty of the Queen of Bound Hearts, the actress was one of China’s most popular ‘peerless beauties’. For this role, it seemed that beauty took precedence over acting skills, and the casting caused quite a stir, even in Korea.

Lee-jae hadn’t really wanted this information, but thanks to her friend singing the praises of ‘her brother’ playing Emperor Taejong, she knew even the trivial details of the drama. She knew the director, the writer’s previous works, the actor who had played Taejong in previous roles, and the controversies surrounding the actress playing the Empress.

<Wow. He’s handsome.>

To be honest, he wasn’t particularly handsome. To Lee-jae, he looked slightly greasy. However, she knew that if she said he wasn’t her type, she would be inundated with chat notifications. So she sent him a meaningless compliment to keep the peace.

<Put some soul into that compliment.>

About five minutes later, Hyo-jeong replied with a crying rabbit emoji. Lee-jae, debating whether to turn on the fan, opened the freezer and took out an ice lolly. Munching on it, she clicked on a link that Hyo-jeong had sent her two days earlier.

Once she had completed her final semester and graduated, her university life would truly be over. With graduation approaching, Hyo-jeong had been pestering her to go on a trip since the mid-term break. Lee-jae hadn’t responded because she thought Hyo-jeong would suggest China. However, after her friend tentatively suggested Vietnam and Taiwan as alternatives, Lee-jae finally agreed. Of course, China was chosen as the destination immediately afterwards.

Sitting in front of the fan, she bit into her ice cream and scrolled through the photos in the link. There were grand palaces and people taking pictures. There was also a list of items to buy from the duty-free shop, as well as some decent accommodation options. There were also some famous restaurants that were popular with Koreans. Looking through the reviews, Lee-jae wondered if she really needed to go.

***

Lee-jae could not remember exactly when it had started, but at some point she began having dreams.

Every time she had a dream, she would wake up in tears. Fear clung to her like it did to a frightened child. Once she had woken up, she could never fall asleep again. The following day, her mind would be clouded, her head would feel heavy, and she would be unable to focus. Even the slightest thing would unsettle her, leaving her feeling anxious and in a low mood.

In hindsight, she thought it had probably started when she was just over nine years old.

At first, she thought it was just a nightmare. She thought it was because her father had watched a drama called Justice Pao the night before. In truth, it had been far too violent for a child to watch, but her father had paid little attention to this fact. Then again, he rarely thought deeply about anything.

Perhaps it had started after that.

Ever since the dreams had begun, whenever she looked at the people around her — anyone she met or happened to see — she would see another person’s image in her mind. No, ‘overlap’ was perhaps not the right word. It was more like something being called back to memory.

It was as though a long-forgotten memory had suddenly been superimposed on the present, stirring up recollections she had never intended to recall.

Becoming friends with Hyo-jeong followed a similar pattern. It was the autumn after she turned nine. She wanted to talk to her, even though they weren’t close friends. For some reason, she felt as if she had to. She felt that the moment she acknowledged Hyo-jeong, Hyo-jeong would acknowledge her back.

As if they might go together to see the cat hiding in the backyard. As if they might wear disguises and go somewhere together. In fact, Hyo-jeong didn’t have a hidden cat, and she wasn’t as glad to see Lee-jae as Lee-jae thought she would be. She looked at Lee-jae as if to ask, ‘Why is she acting like this?’, but eventually let her join her group because she was so friendly.

That’s how Lee-jae became best friends with Hyo-jeong. Things like that happened to Lee-jae often. Hyo-jeong was the first person to befriend her, followed by her uncle and then her parents.

Things changed after she found out. She didn’t know exactly what had changed. It was just… everything changed.

Whenever the overlapping images became thicker and more vivid, Lee-jae would cry alone. She would cry in her father’s arms and cry while stroking her mother’s face. Her parents would look at their daughter, who was hiccupping and trembling for no apparent reason, with bewildered expressions, but they would soon wipe away her tears.

‘Mom is the mother who raised me.’

The thought had suddenly occurred to her when she was thirteen. It didn’t happen immediately after a dream, but a week later. Yet she felt a renewed sense of certainty. It happened while she was doing her maths homework at school for no particular reason.